It's Easier With You
by Bethy1416
Summary: With Jac's mental state worsening over Christmas, can Fletch help her deal with its physical repercussions? Just a little headcanon I thought I'd share! Flac.


**A/N: For the sake of fiction, Darwin is the only ward in the world that's peaceful for a night. Also, I'm aware this may seem out of character but please be nice about it or don't read it. Just a little headcanon which I thought I'd share :) hope you like it!**

 **Content warning: panic attacks.**

~•~•~•~

It's late. The lights are dimmed and Darwin's quiet, save for the constant chorus of beeps from machines. Jac had managed to desperately persuade a nurse to draw across one of the curtains around her bed in her need to avoid the nauseating sight of Mr Charles' behind poking out from beneath the sheets. His snoring was infuriating enough, without the added help of his cheeks and mocking arse-crack peering at her all night.

She'd taken to lying on her side, facing the curtain. She feels as though it allows her more privacy this way, despite the bed to her left being empty. No one had used it since Ken had been transferred to ITU after a complication on Boxing Day. She'd surprisingly grown fond of him. But she wouldn't admit that out loud.

Between the snoring and flatulence on the ward, sleep has been eluding her. She's grouchier than normal and unbelievably temperamental during the day, more so because it's Christmas. She's not been sleeping well, but when has she ever? For the first few weeks she'd managed to be bearable. But she questions how Fletch will handle her now. She's not seen him since Christmas Eve, the lucky duck had somehow swiped two days off. He'd sent her a text on Christmas morning, but she'd not replied. Christmas has never bothered her, but something about it does now. It's poisoned her beyond her usual disdain. She skipped her physio session this evening in favour of lying in bed; her hopes of being home for Emma's birthday practically extinguished. The doctors and nurses around her are unfamiliar and patients have come and gone whilst she's been here. She'd even resorted to the dreaded bed pan on more than one occasion.

It makes her panic, seeing her decline over three days. For the first time in a long time she's concerned about others. She's worried that Fletch had avoided her today, as she's certain he was scheduled for a shift this afternoon but she hadn't seen him. She's stressed about Emma and how she's spending more time with a nanny than either of her parents. She even feels anxious for Ken, of all people. She ponders what Jasmine would do, how she would have reacted to all this. Would this have been the circumstance that could have served as a base for their relationship? Would she have had someone other than her colleagues sitting at her bedside during visiting hours? She supposes that Jasmine was a colleague anyway. So, no. It would be exactly the same.

Once again, her sternum begins to tingle and her chest tightens, her breathing quickening as the reel of thoughts in her head spins faster, the ECG monitor letting out slightly more frantic beeps behind her. A nurse peers around the curtain and eyes the screen before drawing the other curtain around her bed to provide privacy and to avoid disturbing other patients. Jac's hand presses against her chest and her nails leave little crescent indents in the pale skin. She doesn't notice when the nurse reading her notes nods to someone out of sight and disappears. It's only when a hand rests on the covers over her hip that she snaps out of her daze and her eyes slowly trail to the figure crouching at her bedside. He gives her a sympathetic, wavering smile but it morphs to an expression of concern when he notices that his presence alone hasn't calmed her.

"You know the drill," he murmurs at her as he walks to the other side of the bed. He tugs on her shoulder and squeezes it as she shifts onto her back. "You trying to scare us with a bit of midnight sinus tachycardia?" He expects her to comment on his timing, warn him against making inappropriate jokes. But he doesn't even get a rare Jac smile. "Jac?" He asks, his concern growing. He sits on the bed beside her and gently slips his fingers into the palm she's still holding against her chest. He calls her name again and waits for her gaze to land on his. "You can trust me, okay? You can tell me to stop."

If this was happening to any other patient, there would be protocol and stages to move through in order to ease the symptoms. But this is Jac. His friend. That has to count for something? He trains his eyes steadily on her own as he slowly nudges the blankets from her torso and purposefully nods for reassurance to continue. Her eyes widen a little, but she softly nods in return, so subtly that he nearly misses it. He flattens his hand against the material across her stomach and smiles gently.

"See my hand? It's not going anywhere, Ms. Naylor. You know it should be." He raises his eyebrows in playful scorn. "I want to see my hand rise and fall with your breathing."

She can see him and hear him and even smell his aftershave. But right now the most overwhelming sensation is that she can feel him; feel the dip in the mattress where he's sitting beside her, feel his warmth seeping through the covers, feel the reassuring weight of his hand on her stomach. Her chest feels constricted, as though it can't expand properly and there's a dull ache in her lungs. But she reminds herself to focus on his hand. That's what he said. She needs to make his hand rise and fall.

"That's it," he assures as he senses the ever so slight motion beneath his fingers. "Breathe into your tummy."

He hesitantly reaches for her hand and places it beneath his own. "There you go, now you can feel it."

Her breath falters in her throat as she tries to slow down, resulting in a quivering gasp.

"There's no rush," he soothes. He takes hold of her hand that's sitting on the mattress and is surprised when she grips onto his fingers, as though he is the only thing grounding her.

They stay like this for another ten minutes, the only words uttered between them being his reassurances. The monitor gradually returns to its steady beeps, yet they remain still and quiet. He ends up casually lying back next to her, allowing her the time she needs. He keeps his hand on her stomach but retracts the one that's clasped around hers as he changes position.

"I heard you didn't go to physio today," he broaches quietly. After a few moments of silence pass, he turns his head to look at her. He's not sure what part of him breaks, perhaps his heart or his defensive comedic outlook, but something does and he sighs upon seeing a tear slide down her cheek. He removes his hand from her stomach and carefully scoops the tear into the crook of his finger before swiping his thumb across the damp trail.

"It's all going to be fine, I promise you."

"Where were you?" She asks, annoyed by the tremble in her voice.

"Couldn't get cover for the kids until this evening, so I said I'd come in late and make up the hours tonight."

Jac runs her hands across her face and sighs.

"Thank you…" She whispers.

"Now, don't bite my head off… but have you taken Hanssen up on his-"

"I'm going to bite your head off," she warns. He snaps his mouth shut and swallows his words. "I haven't been to-"

"Perhaps just consider-"

She turns to glare at him so he stops short again.

"I haven't been to see them but I've said that I will. Period. No need for further discussion."

He's unsure whether to take this statement with a pinch of salt or not. It seems very unlikely of Jac to agree to counselling, but is any of this really in character for her? The nerves, the panic attacks, not to mention the fact that they've found a friend in one another. He crosses his arms and stares up at the ceiling.

"If somebody saw us now, I don't think I'd hear the end of it," he chuckles.

"I am certainly grateful for the curtains. Besides, nobody needs to see Mr Charles mooning for a consistent eight hours."

He lifts his head from the pillow to look at her and is glad to see a glimmer of humour in her eyes when she gazes back. He settles back down and Jac is surprised to realise that she isn't bothered nor does she feel like he's outstayed his welcome. She's grateful to have him, too.

She glances across at him ten minutes later and catches him with his eyes shut, his arms still crossed and his head tilting towards her in sleep ever so slightly. She finds the sight… amusing, almost endearing. She's tempted to startle him, start shouting about a patient needing him, but decides against it. She's not sure when his shift is meant to finish, but she'll let it slide just this once.

Sleep is a little easier tonight.


End file.
